


Sick Man

by Originaljokertrash



Category: Batman - All Media Types
Genre: Amnesia, Anxiety, Brief Sex, Hallucinations, Harley Quinn - Freeform, Insanity, M/M, Memory Loss, Mental Illness, Relapse, ’Sane’ Joker
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-06
Updated: 2019-08-06
Packaged: 2020-08-10 17:29:00
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 637
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20139250
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Originaljokertrash/pseuds/Originaljokertrash
Summary: Jack Napier was strange. And he knew it. Sometimes, late at night, he could hear echoes of laughter in the back of his mind.





	Sick Man

**Author's Note:**

> Some Amnesia!Joker because I love Jack Napier. I can’t beliebe it’s been a year and a half since I joined wow!

Jack wasn’t normal. He wasn’t a regular guy. His skin was a ghastly white, his eyes acid green. And his mind, a vat of swirling chemicals, whispers of unimaginable horrors. Images of atrocities; a blown up building, carcasses of children, two pointy ears and a cape.

Jack was a _sick_ man. No matter how hard he tried to appear normal to the outside world, on the inside he was a vile, disgusting creature. An insidious beast. Barely human, in his opinion. As the man walked through the streets of Gotham on his way back from work he could feel the _eyes_ on him. Or maybe that was just the paranoia. 

Once home, Jack would go through his usual mundane routine. Prepare dinner,<strike> though his repulsive thoughts had ruined his appetite,</strike> take a shower, <strike>and watch his own blood run down the drain, </strike> get changed <strike>into anything except purple</strike> before settling into bed, sinking into the soft pillows as he let the nighttime terrors take control of his brain until the morning.

Every morning was the same for Jack. He’d awake, greenish-brow hair plastered to his forehead with sweat, eyes wide and deranged. In that moment, he looked like <strike>his true self </strike> \- no, the _creature. The monster, its laughter piercing Gotham’s silence as it slaughtered hundreds upon hundreds of innocent citizens, long, pale hands scratching against a Kevlar suit. _**NO. **We don’t think those things anymore, do we Jack? I’m just a normal man, aren’t I? I’m just a normal guy. A normal guy. A **normal guy. **

_“Oh, Jacky boy, darling, you’re far from normal. Let me out, sweetheart. Let me out of this case, this shell, this prison. Let me back into Gotham with a bang. I promise I’ll try not to kill too many kiddies, baby. Let me out.” _

Jack trembled. He hadn’t told his psychiatrist about _him_ coming back. He didn’t know how to. Jack didn’t want to be even more of a disappointment than he already considered himself. **Scum of the Earth. **

After work that day, late in the evening, while Jack was in the bar, he felt the voice coming back momentarily. He needed a distraction - anything. He needed to feel human, though he may be the furthest thing from it. And so even later on, when Jack was pinned against the stall of the men’s bathroom, drunken breath whispering in his ear as the man thrusted into him again, Jack took a second to reflect. Jack Napier only remembered flashes of his life - according to the doctors, he’d been in an accident. Of course, both he and the _voice_ knew it was a lie.

When it was all over, and the stranger pulled out, Jack felt empty once again. Alone. “You were a good fuck, freak.” The words bounced around Jack’s mind over and over again before the _voice_ took over once more. 

“_Ooo~ that was fun, wasn’t it, Jackie? Y’know, it would’ve been even mooore fun with that Brucie boy! The one you saw at work the other day? Wouldn’t ya like a piece of him, huh? I sure would, sugar. Reminds me of someone I used to know.” _

And with that, Jack left the bar. Green eyes fixed firmly on the street, the definitely-not-a-psychopath scurried along the road. Somewhere along the way he must’ve stolen a lipstick from a lady’s purse, because it was in his trembling hand once he arrived home. At his bathroom mirror, Normal Jack could swear his hair looked a little _greener_ than usual, his eyes a little _wider_. He raised a shaking hand up to his mouth, the lipstick being held between his fingers, and began to carefully swipe the blood red makeup across his lips. Something calm and sinister had taken over him. Something **evil**.

That night, Jack went to bed with a smile. 


End file.
